


Walk Away

by RedGold



Series: Team Flynn [3]
Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: BrOTP Garcy, F/M, Iris is Adorable, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, We don't deserve Rufus, Wyatt gets yelled at, realism yo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 12:31:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21392203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedGold/pseuds/RedGold
Summary: "Let my little girl jump into my arms. Hug my wife. And then say good-bye and walk away forever."It's been four years since Flynn said those words. Now that he's saved his family, can he carry out that promise? He's not the same man he was in 2014, nor the same man who said he would walk away in 2016. Does this new man have any hope of being able to be a part of Lorena and Iris' life?Maybe it is better if he walked away...
Relationships: Garcia Flynn/Lorena Flynn
Series: Team Flynn [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2067330
Comments: 11
Kudos: 19





	Walk Away

**Walk Away**

_Let my little girl jump into my arms. Hug my wife. And then say good-bye and walk away forever._

It had been four years since he had spoken those words. Part of him feared that he’d never get a chance to bring them to pass. The journal said nothing of actually saving his family. But the journal was unreliable as it traveled through timelines.

But this time... _this time_ he was going to get it right.

It was Rufus, of course it was. He figured it out. How to manipulate the timeline to stop Rittenhouse and make sure the events of December 2014, never happened. But it meant being in the past, outside of the waves of change that rippled through, washing away the mistakes and the horrors.

In other words: he remembered.

Their bodies, lifeless and covered in blood. The burn of his throat as he threw up until he was retching nothing but air. The years of death and murder that followed, all at his own hand.

That was all gone now, reset by the fact Rittenhouse was taken out in the 2000s. The time machine was still built, this time bankrolled by a very anonymous benefactor… Riya Industries. It’s amazing how much wealth someone could accrue with some savvy financial investments made in the 1950s. 

With Rittenhouse gone, there was nothing for him to stumble over, nothing that would send armed men into his house in the middle of the night. And when the team returned to find a world a lot better off than they had left it… his girls were there. Though it was an agonizing hour before he could confirm it. Mason obviously had several questions for these strangers who appeared out of _his_ Lifeboat.

But his girls were _alive_.

Now what?

He went by his security firm’s office first. It looked like he managed to grow it quite nicely in the past six years. Stiv was his partner, and there was a measure of relief that his old friend had made it through the reset as well. But thankfully Stiv had already gone home, otherwise he would have realized something was wrong, that Flynn had changed. 

And he wouldn’t be the only one…

Flynn found his phone sitting on his desk. Tears streamed down his face as he flipped through the camera roll. One picture after another of his family, alive and thriving. Iris playing football. Lorena getting an award at work. Them all dressed as Gomez, Morticia, and Wednesday Addams for last Halloween. Iris smiling brightly as she rode a horse.

A text popped up and it startled him. Just one word, dinner, with a question mark. 

It had gotten late, Lorena asking if he was going to be home for dinner that night seeing as she hadn’t heard from him. Something pulled at him, begged him to go sit down at the table with his girls and bask in the moment. But he couldn’t do that. No… Lorena would see through him, know that something wasn’t right, that he had… changed.

Perhaps he hadn’t thought this through.

He texted back, telling her he was working late on something important. He might not be home until way later, so don’t wait up on him. She replied reminding him to make sure he eats something, and she’ll see him when he gets home.

Scrolling back up the texts, it was so delightfully mundane and domestic. Confirmations of times and dates. Requests for something to be picked up on the way home. Random commentary that made him laugh. And two very racy photos of Lorena sent back on his birthday. Still as beautiful as ever. 

This… he missed all of this. And not only literally. After so much war and destruction, all he ever wanted was to live an uncomplicated life. One full of love and joy and… hope. At least he knew that his other self got to live this dream… even if Flynn erased him by returning to the present. 

It got late as he went down someone else’s memory lane. Lorena would be going to bed. She didn’t worry when he said he’d be late. She knew what kind of job he did. She knew she could trust he wouldn’t be out cheating on her. She would climb into bed and sleep peacefully never knowing that the man who walked out the door that morning was gone, replaced by a battered and bruised version that was no good to anyone, let alone her.

Grabbing his keys that were conveniently left in a desk drawer, he went… home.

It wasn’t exactly as he remembered it. The Holly bushes had been ripped out, replaced by California lilacs. The trim had been repainted. It was only small, inconsequential changes, as the Holly came with the house and the trim had been starting to peel. They had a conversation, only two weeks before that night, about updating the landscape in the spring.

He knew life had carried on… but this was surreal. 

The alarm code had changed, but his second attempt was successful. Not setting the alarm off made this easier, not that it was anything close to being easy in the first place. 

New furniture, except for that big chair he loved so much, like it was built specifically for his frame. Some fresh paint inside as well. Most of the photos on the wall were the same, except the ones from the past six years… and the ones with his brother.

“Gabriel…” he whispered the word as he touched at the glass. The man was shorter than him, looked more like his own father, but their smiles were near identical as they mugged for the camera, the beautiful beaches of Croatia behind them. 

How could he tell his brother he doesn’t remember him? Doesn’t remember their life growing up together?

He couldn’t dwell on that for the moment. If he took too long, Lorena might get up, and she’d see him, and she’d know.

The walk to the bedroom was filled with anxiety and dread. Fear that this was just some dream and he’d open the door to find her dead. That somehow he failed them, again. He paused at the spot he had found Lorena lying on the floor, dying from for a mortal wound to the stomach. It didn’t happen in this timeline, but he could swear he could see the bloodstain in the oak.

Taking a deep breath, he put one foot in front of the other. He spent six years trying to get to this moment, he was going to see it through.

The bedroom door was ajar, that didn’t surprise him. It creaked as he pushed it farther open so he could step into the room. It hadn’t changed too much. New comforter and sheets, but otherwise… near exactly how he last seen it… the last good moment he had in this house until two silenced shots took his family away from him.

Lorena had been sleeping on her front. She rolled over groggily and mumbled out. “Hey, hon.”

Flynn nearly broke down where he stood. This wasn’t a dream. She was there. She was _alive_…

Somehow he managed to push forward and sit on the edge of the bed next to her. “Hey…”

She looked up with lidded eyes. In her half-asleep state, she’d not notice the little things that gave him away. The scars littered across his very soul. The cracked surface of his psyche. She’d still remember the man he was, not the one who walked out of the Lifeboat.

“I…” He licked his lips, fighting the urge to cry and mutter _I’m sorry_ over and over again. “I need to leave for a few days. Chase a lead. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

A light frown played across her lips but then slipped away. This was hardly the first time he’d had to fly across country, or even to Europe, on short notice. He didn’t like leaving her, or Iris, for very long, but sometimes it couldn’t be helped. Lorena understood that.

“Okay,” she said sleepily, reaching up for him. “Stay safe.”

“I will,” he managed to breath out before he was kissing her. 

That hadn’t been the plan. 

Lorena hardly needed to use any strength to pull him down so she could kiss him, playing softly at his lips until she worked her way inside. It had been so long, he drank her up like she was the life healing waters of the Fountain of Youth. Even as he relished in her he berated himself. How could he have forgotten that mix of lavender and vetiver she carried about her, the way she tilted her head slightly and commanded the kiss.

The memories flooded him and all he could do was chase them. He kissed and he kissed, fearing he’d start to cry if he stopped. The part of his heart that was hers, that he had tucked away, threatened to burst from his chest. 

She moaned, low, in the back of her throat, and he knew what that meant. 

Pulling back, he was breathless, but he managed, “I have to go.”

Lorena pouted slightly and it was tempting, oh so tempting, to stay and let himself drown in her. To pretend that the last six years didn’t happen. But not only would that not solve any of the issues he was facing… he wasn’t her husband. That man was gone. She didn’t know him, not really. Kissing her like he did was violation enough. 

Now more awake, her eyes fully open, she was starting to see him, see into him. “Are you okay?”

“This is a rough one,” he manages. “But I’ll be back, I promise.”

He has to come back, he realizes that now. He can’t just walk away and disappear. He couldn’t do that to them, leaving them to spend years and years wondering what happened. It was just too cruel. But he needed some time to figure out what to do. The best way to make it hurt the least for them.

She was still a little sleep-addled, but she could hear the truth in his words and that smoothed over the concern that had started to build. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I know you will.” Flynn smiled, letting himself believe for just that moment, that one second, that everything was back the way it was supposed to be. “I’m going tell Iris I’ll be gone.”

“Okay, _volim te, srce_,” she says a bit sleepily and it’s adorable.

“_Volim te, srećo,_” he replies, kissing her on the forehead because it would kill himself not to. 

There is a go-bag in the closet, packed for moments like these when he had to leave urgently for a job. He grabbed it and started to walk out, looking over his shoulder to see Lorena already falling back to sleep. When she wakes up she’ll probably wonder if something was off or if she was just imagining it. 

_That_ had been the plan.

He stopped in front of Iris’ door which is slightly ajar so Lorena could hear her if their daughter needed them during the night.

A cough, one he didn’t hear, echoed loudly down the hall but he knew he was imagining it. 

Flynn dropped the go-bag on the floor and stopped the shaking in his hands. He pushed the door and forced his eyes to stay open, to see the truth. There was no blood splatter, no sight that no parent should ever have to witness. Just his eleven-year-old daughter who hadn’t quite grown into her gangly limbs sprawled out on her bed as if a tornado had dropped her there. Her blanket tangled around her as she drooled onto her pillowcase.

It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Time passed, he wasn’t sure how much of it, perhaps all of it, as he watched his little girl who had grown up. Who was alive and breathing and apparently quite the football player, if the trophies on the wall were any indication. He was so proud, his heart full, and tears streamed down his face. 

He composed himself as best he could and then kneeled beside the bed. A shaking hand reached out and gently touched her shoulder. “Iris…”

The girl sniffled then opened her eyes, annoyed that someone had woken her up. “_Tata?_”

If this was a dream then he pleaded for no one to wake him, he just wanted to stay in this moment.

“_Mala cvijeta_,” he said as he brushed her hair back, needing to touch her, to feel that she was alive. 

“Is it time for school?” Iris yawned, completely oblivious to his emotional state and he was glad. Lorena he could have talked to, but he didn’t want to burden his daughter with his pain.

“No, sweetheart,” he told her softly, straightening out her blanket. “I have to go away for a few days. But I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Where are you going?” she asked as he tucked her in. He had to keep moving or else he’d just break apart where he stood. 

“There is a big mess I need to sort out,” he answered honestly.

“You’ll fix it,” she said with all the authority of a kid who thought her father was Superman. 

“I will try.” Flynn fought back tears, saving them to fall later when he was free to drown in them. “_Uvijek te volim._”

“Love you too, _tata_.”

This… everything he had done, everything he suffered, everything he had bleed and broke had been worth it… just for this moment.

He finished tucking her in and kissed the top of her head, squeezing his eyes shut so he wouldn’t cry. Then it killed him to turn around and walk away. It frightened him to look back, worried he’d see blood. But Iris was passed out, already flopping over, on her way to getting tangled up again.

Grabbing the bag, he walked out of the house, setting the alarm and locking the door. He didn’t really know if he would ever set foot in it again. But this wasn’t the end…

It was the beginning of the end.

…

Flynn drove out of town and got himself a hotel. For the first time in ages he slept through the night without nightmares or dread. And when he woke up, he did so knowing his girls were alive. It wasn’t a dream. And it made his heart swell.

But he couldn’t disappear on them. He couldn’t leave that kind of ‘what happened’ hanging over their heads. But how could he do this? How could he leave them and it not hurt? That was likely just a pipe dream. It was more like how could he do it that hurt the least?

He needed someone to talk to about the situation. Someone who understood the predicament he was in. 

“Flynn,” Lucy said as she opened the door.

“I apologize,” he fumbled out. “For dropping in like this.”

“No, please, come in.” She moved to the side and gestured for him to enter. “I’ve been losing my mind all morning. I could use someone to talk to. Coffee?”

“Please,” he said gratefully and headed into the living room. Lucy fiddled with the coffee maker in the kitchen that opened into the living space. 

“How are Lorena and Iris?” Lucy asked as she pulled two mugs from the hanging rack. 

“Perfect,” was the only word he could think of. “They are alive, happy, and completely oblivious that their Garcia is gone.”

“Didn’t give them the chance to figure it out?” she asked without judgement, Lucy knowing him too well.

“No, no I didn’t,” he admitted with a mix of guilt and resolve. 

Lucy walked into the living room, handing over a cup of coffee, then gestured for him to take a seat on the sofa as she curled into a chair. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I… I can’t just walk away,” he said with a defeated shrug. “I can’t make them spend time and effort wondering what happened to me. And if I tell Lorena I’m through, I don’t want to see her or Iris ever again…”

“You’d be lying,” Lucy finished for him.

Flynn’s eyes snapped up and Lucy looked at him like she was a teacher, patiently waiting her student to figure out the answer. Somehow, through everything that had happened, she became his best friend. She figured him out, saw through him. Stiv had done it before, so had Lorena. But those two didn’t know the man he had become. Lucy did.

“You don’t want to walk away,” Lucy told him simply.

He wants to argue but he can’t. He pulls out his phone and opens the photos. Landing on one of Iris kicking hard at a football, he hands it over to Lucy. “I missed six years of her life. Is it selfish of me to want it back?”

“Not at all.” Lucy smiles at the picture. “She’s going to be tall, like her father.”

“Yeah,” he said a tad wistfully as he took his phone back. “I… she’s only eleven. There is still so much more left until she’s a grown woman who doesn’t need her _tata_ anymore.”

“I don’t think she’ll ever not need her father,” Lucy said softly. “Just the how and the why might change.”

Flynn remembered how Lucy talked about Henry Wallace, who might not have been blood, but he was her father, not Ben Cahill. Henry raised her, had been there for her, and she missed him all the time. Family isn’t always blood, but family is _family_.

“I’ve told you, more than once, you can still be a father.” Lucy’s words cut through him and the voices in his head wanted to scream that she was wrong. “You’re not as broken as you think.”

“Even if that were true…” he trailed off as the implications tried to drag his stomach out through his throat.

Lucy sipped at her coffee, waiting for him to finish his thought.

“What do I say?” he finally admitted, trying not to get his hopes up, to believe that he could, indeed, be in his daughter’s life. “Sorry, Lorena, I know this is out of the blue, but I want a divorce, no reason I can tell you, but hey, I want dual custody of Iris.” His chuckle was one of self-deprecation and pain. “She’d demand answers, and when I couldn’t give them to her, I’d be lucky if I could get visitation rights.”

He put his head in his hands and rubbed at his temples, then finished his thought. “And if I go back, try to pretend to be… him… to try and make it not so sudden, she’ll know something is wrong from the start. She’ll want to try to help me. She’ll want to try to work things out. But how could I explain that walking into my own house fills me with terror, that I can still smell the blood…”

Lucy sat the mug down on the side table and leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Flynn, I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to think long and deep about it before you answer.” She took a breath and he glanced up to let her know he was listening. “Do you really want to end your relationship with Lorena, or are you punishing yourself because you think you failed them?”

Flynn opened his mouth to argue but she raised a single brow and it silenced him. She wanted him to really think about what he was saying. The past six years he kept telling himself he _had_ to walk away. But was that really what he wanted?

Did he even know what he wanted, or had he simply given up?

The front door opened and his attention was on the newcomer who walked hastily into the room. 

“Lucy—” Amy Preston stopped in her tracks when she saw him sitting on the sofa, probably looking emotionally wrecked. “Who is this?”

_The man who erased you,_ Flynn wanted to say but Amy was just as much in the dark about what happened. 

After they mortally wounded Rittenhouse in 1971, it took years for the organization to completely die, crumble into ash. They knew it was going to have to be that way. It had to be a slow, subtle death, otherwise it would be Emma all over again. Someone taking advantage of the sudden power vacuum.

But, in case they screwed up royally, they went back instead of forward. They couldn’t risk losing the Lifeboat by landing in the middle of a Rittenhouse stronghold. So they went back, to two days after the Hindenburg crashed… upon landing. 

Flynn had never went there, and the team never followed. Everything happened the way it did originally. That meant the woman who caught Henry Wallace’s eye before Carol Preston did never got born. It was… sobering.

It felt a little bit like playing god, but after all the alterations to the timeline, who really knew what the truth was anymore?

They hopped forward, to stop Gabriel from dying by administering epinephrine. 

Then they started to cross their own timelines so they had to be quick about it. A call was placed, confirming a doctor’s appointment for Jiya’s father who didn’t really remember making one, but turns out it was a good thing as the cancer was caught early enough to be treated. 

An invitation was sent to Christopher’s mother to Olivia’s first birthday party. The two women were forced to hash out their differences and realize that love was stronger than tradition. 

Wyatt got a call, told him he had to report to base immediately, but there was no record of such call. This annoyed the hell out of him because he had planned on taking Jess out to a new bar that night to try to make up for being an ass earlier in the week. 

The firm they hired to take care of Riya Industries financials finally received orders on what to do with the enormous amount of capital they were sitting on. They were to contact one Connor Mason with an investment opportunity.

It was a bit more complicated than that, a game of chess, or more like a Rubik Cube, really. But when they walked out of the Lifeboat in 2020 they gained everything they wanted… it only cost them years of their lives.

“This is Garcia Flynn,” Lucy introduced him. “He is one of the people I was working on that special project with.”

“The one I’m just now hearing about?” Amy said dryly, crossing her arms. 

“Amy—”

“Whatever. I just came by to grab something,” she said and then walked off, up the stairs.

Flynn looked at Lucy and she glanced away. He took a drink of his coffee and the two sat in silence until they heard Amy tromp down the stairs and leave. 

“You said you were losing of your mind?” Flynn prompted her. He had a lot to think about so it was his turn to listen to her.

Lucy’s shoulders dropped, deflated. “Apparently there was some tension between us, before yesterday. I’m trying to find the full story but mom… mom died in ’18, cancer.”

“I’m sorry,” he said it and he meant it. Carol may have been Rittenhouse but she was still Lucy’s mother. 

“I knew it might not work, mailing her that packet about how smoking damages the lungs and can lead to cancer. She still got cancer, just a different cause.” Lucy bowed her head and looked at her hands. “She died in ’18 in our timeline too. She said it was supposed to be the cancer, as she died, so… so maybe you can’t outrun fate.”

“Maybe you can, maybe you can’t,” he said softly. “Either way, you can’t blame yourself.”

She looked at him sharply. “I’ll stop blaming myself for my mother’s death when you stop blaming yourself for your family’s.”

“Fair enough.” He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t his fault, that it was Rittenhouse, they were the ones responsible for it. But he was the one who didn’t hear the cough, who didn’t notice armed men entered the house, who couldn’t get to his girls in time.

“Anyway.” Lucy picked up her coffee. “Apparently I’m still fighting for tenure at Stanford and Amy thinks I’m wasting my life, trying to become mom rather than be my own person. Don’t say anything.”

Flynn was going to say something but smiled innocently like he wasn’t. They had spent many hours on this subject, and many pages were written about it in the journal.

“Amy runs her own company now,” Lucy continued, smiling with subdued pride. “She actually built a little empire out of her blog. She had her first big event, wanted me to be there, be the supportive sister. Guess when that was?”

“Last night,” he ventured.

“I had no idea.” She shrugged and sunk farther into her chair. “Once I got out of Mason’s, I wasn’t even sure if my home still existed, since we took down Rittenhouse. By the time I realized where Amy was, and where I was supposed to be, it was too late. She thought I blew her off.”

“Couldn’t exactly tell her the truth.” It was the same problem he had.

“Yeah…” Lucy glanced up at him. “Did you hear about Wyatt?”

“I know that Jessica is still alive.” He was a bit too occupied trying to find information on his own family than listen to the details. Jessica didn’t die, she wasn’t Rittenhouse, that was the important part.

“Well, they’re divorced, no surprise there,” she said with a slight roll of her eyes, “but they have a kid, a son. Seven years old.”

“Really?” He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be surprised or not.

“Yeah, apparently Jess has full custody and Wyatt gets every other weekend.”

So, Wyatt had a kid that he never met. Flynn had to admit, it made him feel a bit sorry for the guy. Granted, it was a situation of his own making, but still… seven years old. And with the custody agreement already in place… 

“To answer your question from earlier, it’s a moot point.” Flynn shrugged and shook his head. “Even if I said that I wanted us to be a family again, it wouldn’t work. Nevermind the fact that walking into that house makes me sick and anxious… it’s been six years. I’m not the same person, the same man she’s still in love with, and I have none of the shared memories. Everything would just implode.”

That was the truth of it… Lorena, Amy, Jessica… they saved their lives but it cost them their relationships. But it was worth it… because they were alive.

“You know,” Lucy said thoughtfully. “Wyatt messed up a lot, but he did get one thing right in our old timeline.”

“What was that?”

“He told Jessica about the time machine, about the timeline change,” she continued, looking off into the distance. “True, she was Rittenhouse and he completely fucked over both relationships, and the team, but… if any of us are going to have a chance to repair things with those we love, we have to tell them.”

She… had a point. It was a simple solution. Once Lorena, Amy, and Jess knew what had happened, understood why there was the disconnect, then they could all move forward. It wouldn’t repair their broken relationships but at least both sides knew what was broke.

Except… “They won’t believe us.”

“Not if we show them.”

“Show them?” Flynn furrowed his brow. “Mason isn’t going to let us just waltz in there and parade the Mothership around like a Mardi Gras float.”

Lucy got that determined grin on her face. “You forget… we do technically own the company.”

…

“Have a seat, someone will be with you shortly,” the assistant said as she gestured to the chairs in the Mason Industries waiting room.

Lorena sat down and glanced at the clipboard in her hand, a non-disclosure agreement attached to it. As much as she trusted Garcia, to receive a call from him asking her to meet him here—he'll explain when she does—and then be presented with an NDA and asked to wait... she had questions.

“You too, huh?” The other person in the room said. She looked to be young, well, maybe thirty, and had mousey brown hair cut in the latest fashion trend to match her trendy clothes. It was a deception, of course, she could see drive and intelligence in the woman’s eyes. She wanted people to underestimate her.

“Do you know what this is about?” Lorena asked simply.

“Not a clue.” The woman shrugged and lifted her own clipboard. “My sister asked me here, she’s a college professor, of history, so color me confused.”

Indeed, that didn’t make a lot of sense. Maybe if the sister taught engineering or computer programming it would. Garcia worked security and that made some sense. Just not sure why it had to involve her. 

Slight panic rose in her. What if Garcia had gotten hurt?

The door opened and another woman was led in. She was blonde, looked tougher around the edges, but Lorena could spot another mother when she saw one. 

“Have a seat, someone will be with you shortly,” the assistant said to the blonde.

“Excuse me,” Lorena got the assistant’s attention. “How much longer?”

“Not long, Mrs. Flynn. Connor Mason will be here soon to personally explain the situation.” They smiled like they got paid enough not to care what Lorena thought. “Please, sign your NDA’s, it will make things go smoother.”

The assistant didn’t give Lorena a chance to rebuttal, making a hasty retreat. Lorena gave herself six minutes. No word in six minutes, then she was going to find Garcia, one way or another.

“Flynn?” the younger woman said. “Is your husband Garcia? Tall, ungodly handsome, you know, for a man?”

The fact she didn’t use the adjective dork meant the woman obviously didn’t know him that well, but still... “Yes. Why?”

“He was at my house, well, me and my sister’s house, more like her house right now,” she rambled a bit as if she had been needing to vent, “anyway, he was there two days ago. He was talking to Lucy, that’s my sister. She said he was working on this special project, first I’ve heard of it.”

Lorena thought this over for a moment. “My husband is in private security, and you said your sister was a college professor?”

“Oh,” her eyes got a little wide. “You think something bad went down at Standford?”

“It’s a thought,” Lorena said and then glanced over at the blonde who was watching them carefully. 

“Don’t look at me,” she said. “My ex asked me here. He’s Delta Force.”

“Delta Force,” Lorena snorted, but then it clicked. “They’re tasked with dealing with terrorists.”

The room went quiet as the implications of that settled in their stomachs. Lorena read over the NDA, pretty standard, and having found nothing dodgy, she signed it. Whatever Garcia called her here for was important, otherwise she wouldn’t be here. 

Just when Lorena was about to hit her time limit, Connor Mason himself stepped into the room.

“Apologies for the wait but we needed to make sure everything was set up,” he said with all the charm of an eccentric billionaire. “I am Connor Mason, though I suppose you recognize me.”

“What is this about?” Lorena said as she stood. 

“Trust me, it’s better if I show you.” Mason smiled but there was something there, a fear and trepidation. “This way please, ladies.”

They followed Mason out of the waiting room, down a hall, some stars, some more stairs, and found themselves in an open warehouse. There were two banks of computers flanking a platform that led into the middle of the warehouse. Something was supposed to be sitting there, but it was empty.

A few staff members loitered about, sitting at the various computers. It looked like they were all waiting for something to happen.

Mason checked his watch. 

“Well?” this came from the younger woman whose name she had learned was Amy.

“To put it bluntly, time travel exists,” Mason told them. “I know because I built a time machine.”

There was a good five seconds of silence until Amy started laughing. Jessica, the other woman, rolled her eyes and looked like she was just going to walk out of what was clearly a waste of her time. Lorena… she knew Garcia wouldn’t put her though all this for some kind of joke. Time travel though, that was a pretty big limb to walk out on, but she would for the moment. 

“This is some kind of reality show, right?” Amy was glancing around at the cameras. “You’re not Mason, just an impersonator.”

“I assure you, I am _the_ Connor Mason,” the man ruffled. “I’d like to see the man who could ever impersonate me.”

“How?” Lorena said abruptly and everyone looked at her. “How did you crack time travel?”

“Ever heard of a time-like curve?” Mason said simply.

Lorena didn’t want a simple answer, one that could be thrown together to convince those who didn’t have engineering degrees. “How do you deal with the First Law of Thermodynamics?”

That question surprised the man, if the widening of his eyes were anything to go by. But then he grinned as if he was happy someone would ask. “In simplest terms, the time machine borrows against your potential energy in the past, not so much replacing it, just shuffling it around.”

“You don’t believe him, do you?” Amy asked.

“It’s sound science,” Lorena explained. “So long as he actually figured out how to do that.”

Mason checked his watch again then gestured to the empty space. “Don’t take my word for it. Why don’t you speak to some of my employees?”

Three seconds later, there was a crackle in the air, ions shifting. In a literal blink of an eye, a large, white sphere appeared in the empty spot. They might think it an illusion but they could literally _feel_ it materialize, air being pushed to make space for it. 

Blue lights powered down as the front hatch opened. 

A worker rolled a ladder up to the machine and the first to exit was a young woman with her long dark hair pulled back into ponytail. Following her was a black guy with the widest grin she had ever seen on any one person. They were both dressed like they had just stepped out of the 70s. 

… they _had_ just stepped out of the 70s.

The truth warred with reason inside Lorena. Time travel wasn’t real, it was impossible, it was _supposed_ to be impossible. 

The two of them were cheerful and happy, as if they just got back from the best date ever. 

“Let me introduce two of my best and brightest,” Mason said as they approached. “This is Jiya and Rufus.” He then turned to them. “And may I introduce Lorena Flynn, Amy Preston, and Jessica Logan, though I believe you two have already met.”

“I’m pretty sure we haven’t,” Jessica said, looking between them. “I was a bartender for years. I never forget a face.”

Jiya’s smile dropped just a bit and Rufus slightly tightened his arm around her. These two clearly did know Jessica, that or they were very good actors.

“Why don’t you tell them where you’ve been?” Mason asked his employees.

“Oh,” Rufus suddenly forgot about Jessica. “We went back to 1977 to see the first showing of Star Wars, in theaters. It was _amazing_.”

“Trek is still better,” Jiya gibed at him and he acted as if she had mortally wounded him. 

“Wait,” Lorena stopped Mason from continuing. “We’re to believe you built a time machine and then just let your employees take it out for date night?”

“Hey,” Rufus laughed. “I stopped an evil cult bent on world domination. I mean, I would have done that anyway, but I think I earned it.”

“Evil… cult?” Amy said as if she knew exactly who he was talking about.

“Rittenhouse,” Jiya said sympathetically. “We know your mother was a part of it. She was going to be prosecuted but managed to secure herself immunity by testifying against the Cahill’s. It damaged her reputation though.”

Amy had gone from believing this was some joke to looking like she was ready to throw down. “Someone needs to start explaining to me what’s going on. Right now.”

“We will,” Mason said diplomatically. “Now that you know time travel is real, let’s go up to the conference room. Lucy will explain it all. Your husbands are there as well.”

“Ex-husband,” Jessica reminded them.

Mason lead them back up the steps and down another hall, Jiya and Rufus following. They entered a long conference room with a glass wall that looked out over the computers and machinery below. Garcia was standing in the back corner, talking to a brunette woman. A man with sandy blonde hair was sitting in a chair, almost in a defeated slump, but he sat up straight as soon as he saw them. Jessica chose to stay at the front of the room, even as this man who must be the ex-husband stood up. 

“Lucy,” Amy called out, walking toward the woman who moved to greet her sister. “Time travel is real? Really real? And Rittenhouse was involved?”

Lorena joined Garcia as Amy talked. He looked different… worn, battered even, to his very core. Something weighed on him, it had for a very long time. He could barely meet her eyes as if he was ashamed of something he had done. There was a large gapping scar across his soul, not fresh, old and scabbed over.

What happened to him?

“Yes, and... yes,” Lucy sounded tired and pained.

Needing confirmation herself, Lorena made Garcia meet her eyes and read the truth in them. Was time travel real? Yes. Time travel was real. Holy shit. 

“What happened?” Amy asked.

“I’ll explain, but first, let me introduce everyone who may not have met in this timeline, or the last.” Lucy went around the room but started with herself. When she finished, she took a deep breath. “Okay, so, Rittenhouse was started by a very distant ancestor of mine, David Rittenhouse, back during the Revolutionary War. Their goal was to try to control the world, shape it in an image they saw fit.” She then went on to explain how her great-grandfather developed an idea regarding time travel. How her mother had bank-rolled Mason’s project with Rittenhouse funds, in the previous timeline.

The _previous_ timeline...

“The turning point was December, 2014,” Lucy continued. “That’s when Flynn ran across the money transfers between Rittenhouse and Mason. Rittenhouse decided the best way to cover this up was to... to kill Flynn and discredit him in the process.” Lucy looked at Lorena sadly. “They failed to kill Flynn, but Lorena, and their daughter Iris, were murdered.”

She was _murdered_, in 2014, along with Iris? Their beautiful daughter? She would have been... five years old.

Lorena looked straight at Garcia, once again asking for confirmation because no, it couldn’t be true, who would murder a _child_? He could barely meet her eyes, guilt and shame roiling in him. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I couldn’t save you.”

“Oh, _srce_,” she said before wrapping her arms around him, hugging him tightly. “I’m right here, you saved me, you saved us.”

Garcia slowly put his arms around her, shaking as if he was worried he wasn’t allowed to. But she held on tight and soon his arms turned into vice-like bands. In a few minutes it would hit her, the full scope of what Lucy said, but in that moment her only concern was for Garcia. No wonder he looked so battered. To live through the death of their daughter?

“I, or well, another version of me from another timeline,” Lucy continued, realizing that Lorena wasn’t going to let go until Garcia did, and he was holding on to her like she might disappear. “She came back and told Flynn about the time machine. I’m sorry, she couldn’t just go back and stop the Flynn’s from being murdered, that wouldn’t have stopped Rittenhouse. But stopping Rittenhouse would, and did, save them.”

Lorena managed to turn her head enough to see Lucy in her peripheral. She gave a slight nod of understanding. As horrible of a thought it was to think of her child being murdered, could she really let other children, and for generations to come, also die? She knew what the answer was on paper, but if she had been in Garcia’s shoes, she doesn’t know what she’d actually do.

“Flynn then stole the time machine and began to target moments in history in which to destroy or destabilize Rittenhouse,” Lucy paused. “The results were... mixed.”

That’s when Garcia started to let go, pulling back as if he was guilty of taking something that wasn’t his to have.

“On the first mission, we changed history,” Lucy’s voice grew pained. “Amy was accidently erased.”

“Erased?” Amy said with a hefty dose of misbelief. 

Lorena turned so she could follow the conversation to know what happened in this other timeline. But she didn’t let go of Garcia even as he tried to distance himself from her. Then a thought occurred to her… six years… was he pulling away because he moved on? Didn’t want her anymore?

“Your father, Henry,” Lucy explained to her sister, “he didn’t marry our mother and so you were never born.”

“Wait, wait, dad isn’t your dad?”

“You… you didn’t know?” Lucy looked somewhere between surprised and terrified, though one was close enough to the other. “That didn’t come out? During Ben Cahill’s trial?”

“Cahill?” Realization dawned on Amy. “Holy shit, Benjamin Cahill is your dad??”

The conversation turned a bit personal between the two sisters. Obviously the story wasn’t over yet, but they needed to work through that little bombshell first.

“It was my fault,” Garcia said quietly. “I erased her. I thought I would end Rittenhouse and be done with it, but I only ended up doing horrible things...”

Lorena took his hand, rubbing her thumb across his knuckles. “You saved her, you corrected history, you stopped the bad guys, and that’s what matters.”

This look in his eyes was so painful, if only because of the hope that was drowning in the sorrow. “You don’t know, Lorena. The things I did, the things… I was capable of doing.”

“No, I don’t,” she admitted, and then when with her gut instinct. “And I don’t care. Our daughter was murdered by a cult that was trying to manipulate time itself to suppress and destroy even more lives. I am not going to judge you for anything you had to do to save Iris and stop them.”

His hand squeezed tight and he looked somewhere between saying thank you and wanting to tell her how wrong she was. Lorena didn’t take it personally. Six years wasn’t going to go away in six minutes.

“Not to be rude,” Jessica spoke up when it seemed like Lucy and Amy were finished. “But why am I here?”

“Um, well.” Lucy cleared her throat. “After Flynn stole the Mothership, a team was put together to try to stop him. We used the prototype machine, the Lifeboat. I was the historian, Rufus was the pilot, and Wyatt was tasked with taking Flynn out. This was before we realized that Rittenhouse had gotten their hooks into Mason Industries and had plans for the time machine.”

Jessica’s expression dropped as she glanced over at Lorena. “Did they murder us too? To get to Wyatt?”

“No,” Lucy said in a way that held a lot of emotional weight. It seemed like more bombshells were about to be dropped.

“You died,” Wyatt finally spoke, shuffling a few feet towards his ex-wife. “You died in 2012.” 

“Twenty… twelve?” Jessica did the math on that. “That was before William was born.”

“Yeah, it was…” Wyatt’s voice sounded pained. “Your death, it… I took this mission because I… I didn’t care if I lived or died.”

Jessica frowned and looked away for a moment. Swallowing hard she asked, “How did I die?”

“You were murdered,” was Wyatt’s reply.

“Murdered?” Jessica shook her head. “How?”

“We, we got into an argument, at a bar,” Wyatt said carefully. “On the way home, you got out of the car. I was angry and I drove off. I came right back but… but you were gone… your body was found later, strangled.”

Jessica’s expression went a bit blank as she processed that information. 

Then she laughed, incredulously.

“Jess?” Wyatt stepped forward.

She batted his hand away and pointed her finger at him. “Just when I thought you couldn’t become more of an ass. That you couldn’t do any worse than the drinking, the arguments, the cheating… you got me killed!”

“That’s… not…” Even Wyatt didn’t seem to be able to refute her assessment of the situation. “You wanted out of the car.”

“Why?” Jess got right in his face. “Because you were yelling at me and driving after having how many beers? And what was the argument over? Huh?” When Wyatt didn’t immediately answer Jessica shook her head again and backed off. “I cannot fucking believe you. You got me murdered and now, what, you expect me to say thanks for stopping that from happening even though it never should’ve in the first place? Well, thank you, now go fuck yourself.”

Lorena squeezed Flynn’s hand and looked at him, trying to meet his eyes that still didn’t want to meet hers. “You didn’t get us killed, Garcia. You aren’t to blame. It was Rittenhouse. They chose to give the order to kill our little girl. That’s all on them.”

He turned his head and his eyes tried to believe her but there was weight in them that would need to be chipped at, but it could be broken free. She had to believe that.

“Okay, wait,” Jessica stopped Wyatt from speaking and pointed at Rufus and Jiya who had been standing to the side possibly enjoying Wyatt getting chewed out, if their expressions were anything to go by. “You said we met already. How could we if I was murdered in 2012?”

“It’s simple, really,” Rufus said with a nonchalant shrug. “Rittenhouse went back and saved you only so they could recruit you, brain wash you, and make you a loyal Rittenhouse minion, all so you could be used against Wyatt in 2018.”

Jiya quickly added, “Oh, and he hooked back up with you, completely ignoring all the signs you were Rittenhouse, putting all of us in danger, all while trying to make Lucy his side piece.”

Wyatt stared at the two of them as if he was mortally wounded and betrayed.

“Three years.” Rufus held up the appropriate amount of fingers. “Chinatown.”

“Yeah, I’m done.” Jessica turned around and headed for the door. Chaos erupted on that side of the room, everyone talking at once. 

“You’re not with this guy?” Amy asked Lucy of Wyatt.

“No, we are definitely over,” Lucy assured her.

Lorena tried to follow along but they quickly delved into events of the previous timeline and it was a jumbled mess of information. She only really needed to know one thing: after her husband had gone through six years of her being dead… what was next?

That could be answered in a little bit. For now, she wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his chest. It took him a moment, but he enveloped her, tucking his head against hers. 

She silently prayed to God to give her strength to be there for her husband, and do whatever it took to heal him from this ordeal. If that meant she lost him in the process, then so be it. But she prayed a little harder that it wouldn’t come to that.

…

“Here you go,” Flynn said as he handed Lorena a mug of tea, taking the chair next to her.

“Thank you.” She had been sitting at the conference table while he made the drink. He had taken his time, knowing that she needed it to process everything she just learned. 

And he needed the time to simply breathe.

His world seemed to tilt on its axis every few minutes. He expected Lorena to be horrified... or maybe he wanted her to be horrified. It would definitely make his decisions easier if she simply pushed him away. Instead, she held him, hugged him, and forgave him all his sins.

But how could she? She couldn’t possibly know just how damaged and broken he had become, because of the things he had done. 

Could she?

“So,” Lorena cleared her throat after taking a sip, “that other timeline seemed like a real big mess, for the others.”

“It was not without its drama,” he admitted, full well knowing he was part of that drama.

“Yeah.” She tried to smile but then thought better of it. He knew that look, the rip off the band-aid look because she preferred to tackle things straight on. “So, um, what comes next?”

Every possible answer he could give stuck in his throat. He thought he was ready for this, but wars waged in his thoughts. A few fought their way to the front line. “I’m not the man I was a week ago. In his place is a broken man who gets nauseous at the thought of entering his own house because that’s…”

Lorena took his hand and gave it a soft squeeze. “You didn’t fail us. Okay? Believe that.”

“I… want to.” He had no idea if he even had the right consider such thoughts, let alone believe them.

“What do you want, Garcia?” Lorena asked him softly, continuing when she saw what he was about to say in his eyes. “And I don’t mean what do you think you deserve. What you think is best for me or Iris. I want to know what _you_ want.”

What did he dare not dream all those nights that sleep alluded him? What did he have no right to ask for? 

“I…” Flynn took a deep breath and allowed himself to dream. “I want to wake up on Saturday mornings and cook French Toast while Iris helps, always dipping into the powdered sugar thinking I don’t see her, but I do. I want to take her out camping, and riding, show her how to saddle a horse. Help her get fluent in Croatian. Teach her how to swim. But I guess I already have…”

“Yes,” Lorena confirmed, a bit sadly. “You’ve missed a lot, but there is so much left.”

That’s what he wanted, everything that was left, everything that this version of him could still be a part of, remember. “I want to play football with her. I want to help her with schoolwork. I want to embarrass her in front of her friends.” He laughed at himself after that tumbled out of his mouth. “I… I want to be a father again. Her father.”

“You’ll always be her father,” she assured him, rubbing her thumb across his knuckles. “There will be an adjustment period as you learn everything you’ve done in the past six years. It won’t be easy. But you are her father, you always will be.”

He wanted to believe her. His mouth went dry, but he had to tell her, she had to know. “I told you, I’ve done horrible things. I murdered a lot of people, some truly innocent, and I even though most of them are alive again, I… I can’t take back what I’ve done.”

“No, you can’t,” her voice shook a bit, squeezing his hand even tighter. “Yes, you made those decisions, but Rittenhouse put you in that position. They tried to play God, they did… far worse. And so while you may think your actions horrific, they can be forgiven. And forgiveness is something you are allowed to accept.”

Could he?

Emotions roiled inside him, wanting to believe, wanting to hold onto the light that promised forgiveness. Tears spilled down his cheeks and he choked back a sob. He so dearly wanted to believe, to let himself believe…

Lorena scooted forward, reaching up and bending him down so she could touch her forehead to his. The flood of self-loathing washed away to leave the scarred skin below.

“I forgive you,” she whispered and he trembled. “I can’t forgive you for our deaths because that wasn’t your fault. There is nothing there for me to forgive.”

They stayed like for a long time, eyes shut as tears rolled down their cheeks, forehead to forehead, hand in hand. He had missed her strength, her beliefs, and how her faith always offered them an anchor even when he struggled in believing. 

_”What if God led you to me?”_ Lucy had said. 

Lucy… who had told him he could be a father again. Who saw through the monster he thought he had become to reveal a better person underneath. Who pushed him to at least give himself the chance to be in his little girl’s life. Who gave him the ability to tell Lorena the truth about what happened.

God lead him to Lucy, and she led him back to his family…

Eventually a strange kind of peace settled over him, one born of a release of a coil he didn’t realize he was holding down. Maybe… he could actually do this. 

Lorena pulled back to give him some space, wiping her eyes clear. “You are Iris’ father. You’re going to always be in her life.”

“Thank you.” His mouth was dry but he meant it. He wanted nothing more right then than to hug Iris and never let her go.

But there was still one more elephant in the room.

“That just leaves us,” Lorena said carefully, fearfully almost. “I’ve been dead a long time, for you. I completely understand if you’ve moved on, if you don’t wa—need me anymore. It will hurt, but I understand and, ah, I’ll recover.”

“The truth is, Lorena…” he swallowed hard and licked his lips, reaching down inside of himself for an answer. “My emotions are a bit of a mess. I know that I love you, I’ll always love you, but I don’t know how to define that love right now.”

Flynn honestly didn’t trust himself with his heart at the moment. Everything was so much, so overwhelming. He could only really focus on one thing at a time and right now it was Iris. He loved his little girl more than anything else, anyone else, and he was going to try to be the best father he could. 

“Okay,” Lorena managed, swallowing down her feelings, though she probably thought he wouldn’t notice. Even after six years, he still knew her little tells.

He squeezed her hand, realizing that he was still holding it, not able to let it go. “Lorena, I’m not the same man I was. Not in 2014, not a week ago. You may not want me.”

“It’s possible,” she agreed with a tremor in her voice. “But I’d like a chance to get to know this new you.”

Lorena was a flame and he the moth. He desperately wanted to move closer, to let her very presence consume him. And how he wanted to be consumed, to be broken down and put back together. But who would he be afterwards? “He may not be someone who can be your husband.”

“Then I’m sure he could still be my friend,” Lorena said quietly, but there was a firmness there. “We just have to be honest with each other.”

“When have we not?” He smiled, a small one, a touch of nostalgia in his voice. She returned it and he felt… peaceful.

He had finally reached the end, now it was a start of a new beginning. He wasn’t sure where this journey would go, where it would end, but he knew Lorena would be walking it with him.


End file.
